


Hannibal Re-Watch Drabble Challenge

by hesterbyrde



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Explicit Language, Foreshadowing, Funeral, Hallucinations, Horror, Jury Duty, Language, Mushrooms, Ravenstag, Spoilers, Swiggity swag, mushroom man, nightmare stag, will has a salty mouth what can I say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-05-29 09:33:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 7,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6369601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hesterbyrde/pseuds/hesterbyrde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One drabble for each episode! Tags for content, characters, spoilers will be added as the rewatch progresses! Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1x01 - Aperitif

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr is doing a rewatch of Hannibal and I was tagged to participate in the drabble challenge by the lovely larissabernstein. Tags for content, characters, spoilers ect. will be added as more drabbles are added. Hope you enjoy!
> 
> This fic in particular is tagged for strong language (Will's a former cop, so I'm sure he has a pretty salty mouth) and allusions and foreshadowing of spoilery material, but no spoilers outright.
> 
> These drabbles are not beta-read, and they're not even really heavily edited. I'm using this as exercise as much as for Fannibal flailing. So any mistakes are my own.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feedback, kudos, comments... all these things give me life! And if you like what you're reading, I've got a fair collection of Hannibal fanfics that are being updated weekly. Have a look!
> 
> All the best!

What the fuck just happened?

And who the fuck was that in Jack’s office just now?

Whoever he was, he hadn’t even bothered to introduce himself. Had just wandered in like he owned the place, asked Jack a few irrelevant questions, and then set in on Will as if he was wielding an icepick instead of words.

Rude. And arrogant.

Hopefully, Will had sufficiently made a point of his opinion before he left. Not likely, but he could still hope. Will was no wordsmith, but that parting shot? Something about not liking to be psychoanalyzed and vaguely quoting the Hulk, and then all but storming out of the office like a grounded teenager? What the hell was that? It normally didn’t take much to fluster Will, especially in situations like this, but this was beyond the pale even for him.

“You won’t like me when I’m psychoanalyzed.” Fuck. That asshole psychiatrist probably thought he was dumber than a box of rocks.

Jack was probably giving him the “Will Graham Talk” now. Jack wasn’t always the one to give it, but someone in the know always gave it behind Will’s back. And Will could tell when it had happened because everyone acted differently around him. Completely unhelpfully different, but different. Sometimes it was Dr. Bloom or the chief of police. About how you have to be careful with Will. He’s a delicate flower and doesn’t like to be messed with. Just leave him alone and let him do his thing. Will didn’t know why Jack or anyone for that matter even bothered. No one ever listened. Look at Beverly Katz.

At least Beverly meant well. Didn’t want to crack his brain open and play just because they were curious.

Will stopped off in the restroom to splash some water over his face. Behind his closed eyes, he could see a reddish haze creeping in at the edge of the darkness. And his head was aching again. It probably wasn’t time to take another dose of aspirin, but he figured what was the harm? He just needed to get through this lecture and then he could go home to his pack. And his whiskey.

Will had to pass by Jack’s office to get to the lecture hall. The two men were still in there, with that psychiatrist explaining something to Jack, who’s attention couldn’t have been more fixed. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe Jack would have mercy on him and take the hint. As far as Will was concerned, that pointy motherfucker could stay far far away.

And please God don’t let Jack invite him along to crime scene investigations. Please...


	2. 1x02 - Amuse-Bouche

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I fail at reading directions, and these are only supposed to be 100 words? Oh well, I'm enjoying using them as writing exercises so they'll be as long as they feel like being.
> 
> This one centers around one of my favorite serial-killers-of-the-week, Eldon Stammets, the Mushroom Man. I was and still am severely disappointed that the show never fleshed him out or explained how he got to the point that growing mushrooms in comatose diabetics seemed rational. So I decided to Will-Graham it out for myself! 
> 
> No real warnings to speak of... especially if you've watched the episode. There's some hallucinating, and some mushrooms, and spoilers for the episode, but nothing out of the ordinary.
> 
> Enjoy!

Will leaned his back against the tile wall of the hallway that fed into the lecture auditorium. He could feel sweat making his shirt stick to his lower back, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was cool, and it felt good in the close, noisy air of the room. 

He hated this part. Almost as much as he hated surrendering to the pendulum that swung in the swallowing dark of his skull. 

Almost.

The students had applauded last time, but they had the grace of memory not to do so again. They just stayed uneasily and silent in their seats as Will dimmed the light and flicked on the projector. He half expected to see Garrett Jacob Hobbs appear on the screen instead of Eldon Stammets’s mugshot, but that was not the surprise waiting for him.

Vivid hatred welled up in his chest, with guilt white hot and screaming on its heels. He forced himself to look at the mug shot. Forced himself to not betray his feelings. They were his for sure this time. With Hobbs he could wonder. Could play it off as his empathy. But Stammets had been anything but angry. He was just pitifully hurt and frustrated… begging for the chance to explain himself. 

Will swallowed at the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, tightened his grip on the projector remote, and turned back to face the class.

“Eldon Stammets was actually Eldon Stammets Jr.” he began, the tension in his jaw evident in his voice.

“Not much is known about the Stammets family. His father and mother were subsistence farmers in West Virginia. He had no siblings. They lived a very secluded life that is only chronicled in his Eldon Stammets Sr.’s diary, which was found in the accused’s residence along with a number of his father’s almanacs. We found no photographs of his parents.

According to state records, the Stammetses were killed in an altercation with local police when they tried to seize their land under eminent domain for strip mining purposes. Eldon Jr., who was 6 at the time, was relocated to live with his only other blood relative, his his father’s older brother and his wife in downtown Baltimore. Isaac and Arlene Stammets. Their only child, Edwin, had already left home.” 

Will flipped to a new slide, a picture of an elderly man and his wife on the steps of their townhouse. Young Eldon Jr. stood between them, a very plastic smile on his thin lips. The men wore seersucker suits, and Mrs. Stammets wore a pastel green dress with a thousand ruffles. The date on the picture said April 9th, and many of the students privately postulated that it might have been Easter Sunday.

“Eldon Jr. had no record of poor behavior or any reports of mistreatment by his uncle or aunt, both of whom are now deceased by natural causes. A family friend of the couple stated that Eldon was an inquisitive and sociable child, but often the other kids in the neighborhood were disinterested in him and his hobbies, which were unsurprisingly, gardening.”

The slide changed again to two graduation photos. One was of Stammets in his high school graduation robes, smiling awkwardly, and another was of him crossing a college graduation stage.

“Due to his exemplary grades in school, Stammets received a full ride to the University of Georgia to study biology. He received both a bachelors Summa Cum Laude, and a masters before taking an abrupt turn and completing a course of study in pharmacology.”

Will flipped back to the mugshot, though he didn’t force himself to look at it again. He was finally in his talking-at-them rhythm and he didn’t want to jeopardize it. 

“No wife. No children. No siblings. He doesn’t turn up again until his garden is discovered.”

Another slide change, this time to the crime scene. It was the first time most of them had seen the mushroom garden, and there were a few gasps around the room, and Will couldn’t blame them. They were used to blood, guts, violence, and passion. Not something like this... Even unflappable and witty Jimmy Price had been speechless when he first stepped on the scene. Took him a full five minutes to make a joke, which Will was sure was a record.

“Aside from the obvious… what makes Eldon Stammets different? Eldon Stammets wasn’t killing out of passion. He wasn’t killing as a response to behavior. And in his mind, he’s not killing to fulfill his own needs. His wish is to connect these people to each other, using the fungus he grows on them. Now… how do we begin to dissect this? What questions do you need to ask to get a foothold on his mind?”

A timid voice came from the back. “What did he study in college? What was his specialty?”

“Yes.” Will responded, not looking up, but clearly listening. “And the answer is that he studied agricultural biology in undergrad and focused on fungal biology in the Masters program. Mycology. What else?”

“You said he was a bit of a loner? No friends from school? College or otherwise? He might have had help? That’s… that’s a big project.”

“ According to his confession and interviews with police, we are fairly certain Stammets was working alone. We haven’t been given a reason to track associates down, but a case could be made sure in another situation. What else?”

“What did his parents farm?” Another student offered.

“According Stammets’s father in the diary and almanacs, they mostly farmed vegetables like squashes and beans. Things that could cope with higher altitudes, colder weather, and thin soil.” Will answered.

“No mushrooms?” Came the same voice in the dark.

“No mushrooms.” Will confirmed. “Which leads us to believe that the revelation that would lead our drifting young Stammets down this path of reason came when he was in college. According to the university’s paperwork, he actually had to spend an extra year on his Masters because he abruptly changed specialties from working in a research lab on pesticides, to studying mycology. Almost starting from scratch, since it hadn’t been in his course of study at all in undergrad.

“And we had this confirmed by Stammets earlier this week. He was actually proofing a paper for a friend who was specializing in mycology when the epiphany hit him. About how fungi can connect with one another and communicate over incredible distances. And how that might be able to help people to connect. All his life, Stammets had read the words of his father. About connection with the earth. With the land. With your family. About how fighting for those connections was the most important thing you could do, consequences be damned. And the consequences did damn him.”

“So what I want you to see here is that the catalyst for serial killers isn’t… it isn’t always something concussive or wholly traumatic. Sometimes, it’s a slow dawning… a realization that’s harmless in itself, but it’s come unhinged from the common moral scope. Eldon Stammets believed and continues to believe that what he was doing was helping people. Maybe he’d lost all his connections in the world, but he could help people find theirs if he could just find a workable method. He-”

“Will?” 

Alana’s voice broke through his thoughts as he tried to finish the statement. It wasn’t like her to be rude during his lectures. “He wanted to-”

“Will?”

He shook his head hard. His back felt cold. 

He looked up to see Alana standing next to him, her lovely face pinched in a frown. “Will, you haven’t started your lecture yet?”

Will blinked a few times. He was still in the alcove, leaned against the cold wall. He swallowed to wet his mouth. “No I… I was just running through all the details in my head. Wanna… want to keep the facts straight. There’ve been a lot of new ones in the last few hours.”

She nodded, the crease in her brow not softening in the slightest. “Alright. Don’t run over time. Jack wants to see you in his office when you’re done.”

Will nodded dumbly, peeling himself off the wall and trudging into the hot, stuffy air of the lecture hall.


	3. 1x03 - Potage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt is from the lovely soulofplanetcaravan over on Tumblr. I was really stumped on this one. Thanks for saving me!

It was harder to move a body out of the trunk of a Bentley than it was to roll one off the hood of a car.

It wasn’t the first time Abigail had made an intrusive comparison between her butchering of Nick Boyle and hunting trips with her father.

The plastic Hannibal had supplied made more noise than the weathered tarp she and her father had used. 

The knife had slid so much more easily through Nick Boyle’s living flesh than that of the dead girls.

And Hannibal was nothing like her father. Not gleeful. Not proud. Not solemn. Just… frightfully and calmly pragmatic. 

And yet Abigail had the strange sense that he cared about her. Ever since she had woken up in the hospital she had felt incredibly isolated. Perhaps she’d been alone far before that. A little distance was starting to bring that fact into focus. 

But now… maybe she wouldn’t have to be alone.


	4. 1x04 - Oeuf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a reminder, these are all unbeta-ed and have a ton less editing than my other work. Please read forgivingly.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! Kudos and comments give me life!

As Will took his jacket from the back of Hannibal’s chair, he paused before heading out the door. “Hannibal, will you do a favor for me? I hate… I hate to ask, but I don’t really have anyone else.”

Hannibal drew himself up to full height and frowned at Will’s sudden stoic formality. “Of course, Will. Whatever you need.”

“I… I actually got a call just before I got here. Jack wants me at a crime scene in Conneticut. I’ve… I’ve actually got to go to the airport first thing in the morning but...”

“Do you need a ride? I can see to your car for you.”

“No… no, it’s just... I just don’t have anyone to feed my dogs is all. I hate to impose.”

“Will, that’s hardly an imposition.”

Will’s face split in a humorless cough of laughter. “Do you know how many dogs I have?”

“The more the merrier.” Hannibal replied with an affable smile.

Will couldn’t keep himself from mirroring it back.

“I beg a favor in return.” Hannibal went on.

“Of course! Though if it’s cat sitting, you’d better ask Dr. Bloom. I’m allergic.”

“No, nothing like that.” Hannibal replied, fingering the stitching on the back of his chair. “I would very much like to see your boat on the sea.”

Will had clearly been expecting that request as much as Hannibal had been expecting the request for dog-sitting. His mouth worked for a moment before he nodded stiffly. “It’s a long drive.” He said in half-hearted warning.

“I don’t mind. If you truly don’t.”

Will gave a little shake of his head before absently pulling on his coat and drifting out the door, with Hannibal following a moment later.

***

And so they found themselves standing out in the flat fields, with a low hanging fog coiled around their ankles, staring back at the image of the little white house all aglow from within.

Will had expected Hannibal to pontificate upon the vision before them. With his metaphors and colorful language. To try to codify and extrapolate. To ask questions. It was his job. It was Will’s impression of who he was. 

But Hannibal was silent and still as a statue in the dark beside Will. The only sound was the padding of dog feet and the mournful chirp of the last cricket not yet succumbed to the encroaching frosts of the autumn.

Will had also expected to feel different out here with someone other than his pack. On edge or just… nothing. But the sight of his house, lit up from within, still gave him the same sense of calm. Of peace and of safety. And to his surprise, he had to stop himself from listing towards Hannibal.

A soft snort came up from behind him and Will fought the urge to turn. He knew what he would see. 

The feathered stag.

He felt its hot breath as it nosed against his hand, before it trapsed around in front of them. Will knew it for a hallucination, but made no move to dispel of acknowledge it.

The stag approached Hannibal, its black, pupiless eyes shining in the sparse starlight. It stretched out its neck, lipping at the cuffs of Hannibal’s coat, and at his buttons. Smelling and discovering.

Will swore he saw an antler scrape Hannibal’s cheek as it snuffled at his hair. A thick line of blood, black and viscous like ink in the moonlight, slowly slid down his cheek.

“Thank you for showing me this.” Hannibal’s voice broke into Will’s reverie. 

Will had to swallow twice to wet his mouth enough to reply. “You’re welcome. I guess now you know the way, so you won’t need directions.”

Hannibal smiled in the darkness, the creases around his eyes deepening in the shadows. “Yes. I suppose I won’t.”


	5. 1x05 - Coquilles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently, the Katz/Graham ship is like Pringles to me and I can't leave it alone. 
> 
> If that ship is your jam, I've got another fic entitled "Black is the Colour," featuring those two, with at least two more on the way.
> 
> Like I said... Pringles.
> 
> Anyway, no warnings or anything on this one. It's unedited and unbetaed so any mistakes are mine.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Who prays over us when we sleep?” Jack had asked rhetorically.

"Beverly…" Will thought, wrinkling his nose and adjusting his glasses.

Two nights now he had fucked her until his misery was driven away, and two nights in a row she’d saved him from his nightmares. And yet every morning he watched her walk away from his bed, scratching her hand through a serious case of sex hair and he’d find himself thinking… I can’t do this.

He knew he’d ruin it. Somehow or someway. She put on a brave face now, but she’d tire of him eventually. It would end in a blazing fight, ignited by something little. And the whole fetid mess they’d been keeping at bay would go up in smoke.

But Will couldn’t help but wonder if it would be different with her… she was, after all, a little different too.


	6. Episode 1x06 - Entree

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's my drabble for Episode 6 featuring none other than Miriam Lass, accompanied by the most egregiously obvious foreshadowing I think I've ever put on paper.
> 
> I'm posting early since I'll be out of town next week, so enjoy!

Miriam Lass sighed as she slouched down into her seat in the lecture hall. She hated this class. “Documentation and Filing,” otherwise known as Paperwork 101. It was universally reviled, and Miriam felt bad for the teacher that got saddled with it. It was different every semester apparently. Passed around like an ill-fitting pair of shoes.

“Lass.” The teacher was calling her name.

“Yes, sir?” She replied, sitting up a little straighter.

“Agent Crawford would like to see you in his office.” 

She blinked twice as the information slowly soaked into the part of her brain that formed words. “Now?” she asked dumbly, stalwartly ignoring the stifled giggles around the room.

“That was my understanding. You’re dismissed. Get your notes from one of your classmates.”

“Yes, sir.” she replied, her voice still rather foggy.

“What the hell, Miriam?” Aleesha had spun around in her chair as Miriam scrambled to gather her things.

“I… I don’t know.” she hissed.

“Did you cheat? They caught a couple of guys cheating in one of the law classes and there’s a rumor of a -”

“What? Fuck, no I didn’t cheat. Who would I cheat off of?”

Aleesha snorted, and swiveled back around in her seat. “You better tell me what he wanted then.”

“Sure… sure. Can I get-”

“Notes. Yeah of course, Miriam. Go!” she shooed her out the door.

Miriam set her things down in the waiting room and smoothed her sweaty palms down the front of her khakis. She wanted to give every impression of being calm and in control of herself, so she took a deep, grounding breath. 

This might not be a bad thing, she told herself. This wasn’t what happened when you’d done something wrong. They didn’t send you to the Guru if you were sub-par. And sub-par she was not. The Guru had opportunities. Opportunities most trainees like her would give their right arm for. This was good. This had to be good. 

That’s what she just kept telling herself.


	7. 1x07 - Sorbet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bedelia stared out the picture window that overlooked the drive up to her house. This week, as she did every week at this time, she played with the gilded tassels on her curtains, watched the black shapes of birds careen across the sky, and wondered why she kept putting Hannibal’s appointments on her datebook.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little drabble about dear, sweet Bedelia. There are some mild spoilers for her plot arc in season 3 so beware! But no NSFW or overly gory content.

Bedelia stared out the picture window that overlooked the drive up to her house. This week, as she did every week at this time, she played with the gilded tassels on her curtains, watched the black shapes of birds careen across the sky, and wondered why she kept putting Hannibal’s appointments on her datebook.

At this point, there was no use in trying to excuse away what she saw in him. Being in a room with Hannibal Lecter was like living in her very own horror movie, complete with the monster that she could only glimpse when she wasn’t looking directly at it. A monstrous shape, coiling and roiling and most of all, hungry. Thinking about him now, when he wasn’t present was chilling. She could feel her fear and revulsion crawling like maggots through her very bones.

And yet, when he inevitably pulled up in her driveway at precisely thirty seconds to the hour, she felt her stomach give a yearning little lurch. When she faced him straight on, she couldn’t help but be entranced. Even though she knew enough of the blackness that lurked behind his mask, she would also think of how tenderly he’d wiped the blood from her face. How the blackness in him called to the infantile darkness in her own psyche. The part of her that went out of its way to step on ants.

She knew in that moment that this was as far away from Hannibal Lecter as she was ever likely to get.


	8. 1x08 - Fromage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, these are not heavily edited or beta read. 
> 
> This one may take on a life of its own and become a smutty little one-shot... I'll just have to see if the muses are cooperating.
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! Enjoy!

Will stayed there, leaning on Hannibal’s desk. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to stray any farther than arm’s reach from Hannibal as he nursed his wounds. Jack patrolled the room asking all sorts of ridiculous questions. Hannibal answered them with his usual grace and without the least shred of malice or exasperation.

“You should really have someone look at that.” Will said, his voice a little husky. He nodded to where Hannibal was holding a piece of gauze over the stab wound from the letter opener.

Hannibal gave a considering pout and shook his head. “The bleeding’s stopped, and the paramedics can’t do anything for me here that can’t wait until I get home.”

“About that. Do… you need a ride or anything.”

“No, thank you Will.” Hannibal shook his head with a faint smile. “But I… I did mean what I said about appreciating your company. And I would likely… I would likely be in need of it tonight. If it wouldn’t be a nuisance.”

It took a few moments for the tumblers in Will’s brain to turn over and make sense of the request. “I… no no it wouldn’t be a nuisance.”

“I can promise dinner as recompense for what is likely to be dismal companionship.”

Will did smile then. He heard his jaw creak with the unfamiliar effort. “You should rest. Not cook dinner for an unexpected guest.”

“That is restful to my mind. To do for another is to do for myself.”

Will just nodded. “Okay.” He pulled out his phone and sent a short text to Alana.

-Could you look after my dogs tonight? Going to be…

He hesitated, unsure what Hannibal would want him to tell another colleague.

-Going to be out late.

Will thought about saying something petulant like, “Don’t worry, you won’t have to see me.” or “The dogs might want kisses too.” but he decided against it. Nothing to be gained by making it worse. Maybe this was what it was to have friends. Getting into arguments. Getting them into trouble. But getting out of it together just… because you liked each other.

Will wasn’t a hundred percent certain that he was worth it.

But Hannibal was staring at him like he disagreed.


	9. 1x09 - Trou Normand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always these are only roughly edited and not beta-ed.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The world ground to a halt at the first bite. Under the fancy cooking and sweet sauce, Abigail would recognize that taste anywhere. Hannibal’s gaze snagged hers for a second that dragged into a small eternity.

He knew she knew. He’d probably done this for her. A provocative performance from Hannibal. He was risking being caught to be sure Abigail knew exactly what he was.

Though it hardly seemed a risk. Freddie prattled on about comparing them all to psychopaths, oblivious to all but her own perceived genius. And Will’s eyes barely strayed from Abigail, though he never looked at her directly. It was as if he were trying to see something behind her…

He knew. He had to. At least about Nick Boyle. It was supposedly his thing after all.

Abigail excused herself to go wash dishes as soon as she was able. She couldn’t panic in front of Freddie. Or in front of Will. She could only dam the tide until she was ready to confess. 

***


	10. 1x10 - Buffet Froid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what it is with me and the Katz/Graham but it's like pringles.

As she rounded the corner of Beth LeBeau’s house, Beverly caught sight of Will leaning against the door of her Jeep. It was all she could do not to stop and stare. He looked awful. Positively and completely ragged, like a threadbare dishtowel. His eyes were hollow, and one knee of his pants was still caked with blood. He slouched further as she came closer and didn’t look up.

“Hey.” she said dumbly, not really knowing how else to start.

“Sorry I fucked up your crime scene.” he muttered, eyes still on the dead grass.

Beverly blinked a few times. That was a lot to unpack. It was her crime scene. Not the crime scene. And he felt the need to apologize to her for it. Her mind zipped back to the moment he’d stumbled out of the room like a mad man, half covered in rusty bloodstains and eyes wild and fevered.

“It’s okay.” she said softly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch his arm. “But you’re clearly not.”

He gave the most imperceptible shake of his head but said nothing else.

They stood there in a silent vacuum for a long while, both shuffling their feet in the slush.

“Can I get a ride back?” Will asked finally. “I… I don’t feel safe to drive, and I um… I don’t want to talk about it, but I’m… I’m not really sure I want to be alone right now.”

Beverly nodded firmly. “Sure. I can do that. But I have two conditions.”

Will looked up at her, over the rim of his glasses.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but talk to someone. Okay? I’m serious.”

“I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Lecter the instant the plane touches down. What else was there?”

“That we’re stopping for food.”

He smiled then. Almost a cadaver’s smile. All stretched skin over teeth. “Sure… just no fish.”

“Thought you were a fisherman.”

“Been… been eating it too much lately.”


	11. 1x11 - Roti

Beverly Katz put the last of the surgical tools Gideon used in their respective evidence bags, and then stripped off her gloves with a pop. Someone jumped out of the corner of her eye, and she caught sight of Freddie Lounds being interviewed by another agent. They nodded to each other, the questions clearly done for now, and the agent turned to join her partner. Freddie stayed seated, holding Beverly’s gaze for a long moment. Her expression was hard to read, but then it always was. After all, Freddie made a habit of -

Beverly shook herself. All derision and past history aside, Freddie Lounds in this instant was a human being. A victim. So she crossed to her.

“Hey.” Beverly said, giving a flicker of a smile. “They done with you?”

“For now.” she replied, glancing around at the other agents, some of whom were making no secret of the fact that they were noting who was willingly talking to the infamous Freddie Lounds. “Won’t your boss be upset if they see you talking to me?”

“Jack can suck an egg.” Beverly replied.

Freddie gave a small, startled cough of laughter. “Can I quote you on that? Not in an article. I just want to see his face.”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“I don’t blame you.”

“But seriously… do you need anything.” Beverly asked, stepping more squarely into her field of vision.

“I think they’re going to take me back to Quantico.” she answered, looking down at her feet. “But… thanks. Beverly, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. I don’t think we’ve ever officially met.”

“But everyone knows me.” Freddie gave a stretched grin that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Well, til tomorrow at the earliest, you’re a victim and a witness.”

“I… thanks. I’ll try to make the most of it.” she replied.

“I’m sure you will. I probably would do the same.” Beverly said, taking a few steps back before heading towards the forensics van out front.


	12. Episode 1x12 Relevés

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two for the price of one, since I'm very late. First, a scene from Georgia's funeral, and second, Beverly Katz being a salty queen about jury duty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all!
> 
> So I'm behind on these because of my vacation, but look! Two for the price of one!
> 
> Needless to say, there are spoilers for this episode and some foreshadowing for episodes to come so read with care. 
> 
> These aren't beta-ed, or even heavily edited so please forgive any mistakes.
> 
> Enjoy!

Will stood with his hands jammed in his pockets on the opposite side of the parlor from the Georgia Madchen’s closed casket. He had been the last person to speak with her, and he hadn’t even said goodbye when he left. Her nurse had arrived with some medication that had caused her to nod off mid sentence. So it seemed right that he should say goodbye now while he had the chance.

Will knew Jack would probably blow a gasket if he knew he was here. Or out of the hospital at all. Especially after the way he had reacted to the news of Will’s visit to Georgia’s room in the hospital. It felt to Will like he was some sort of gadget in a clean room. Brought out for its purpose, and then meticulously cleaned and put away.

Except Will didn’t clean. Nothing about him felt clean anymore. He felt gritty, and busy, and frayed. “Old mug” didn’t even cut it anymore. He felt like the tin can his father used to spit his chewing tobacco into… always reeking and housing a cabal of flies.

Will shook himself, feeling a drop of sweat roll down the small of his back as he began to move towards the casket. She wasn’t in there. And that wasn’t a metaphor… the FBI still had her body, but these sort of things had never been about tangible things anyway. And no matter what Jack said or anyone else at the bureau thought, he needed to be here. Maybe to say goodbye, or maybe for something more. Funerals were often the birthing ground of self discovery. Maybe Georgia hadn’t completely nodded off just yet. 

***

It took all of Beverly’s strength not to slam her head into the table in a desperate attempt for stimulation. But she managed to refrain. It would probably hurt more than her particle board desk at work anyway… this looked like solid oak.

Jury duty was the bane of anyone’s existence, but never more so than to someone who worked in law enforcement. Especially a murder trial. As the other jurors argued about fingerprint matching (and of course, everyone was an expert because they’d watched half a season of CSI) she found her mind wandering to her colleagues back at in Quantico… wondering what they were up to. Even watching a spectrometer’s progress bar would be more interesting and engaging than this...

As if on cue, Zeller appeared outside the window of their deliberation room. While he was flashing his badge and some papers at the security guard, Beverly began collecting her things.

“Where the hell are you going?” the jury foreman blustered. “Break’s not for another hour.”

“Rescue has arrived for me. I’ve got to go to work.” Beverly answered trying and completely failing to repress a very satisfied smirk.

“Yeah, we’ve all got jobs but-”

“But none of yours have badges and nationwide jurisdiction.” she cut him off, swinging her bag over her shoulder. “And by the way, those fingerprints on the murder weapon could only be clearer if I’d lifted them myself. And at the FBI, we submit to evidence prints with half as many matching points as these. Oh. And also, his alibi is bullshit on toast. Do none of you use Google? That club has been closed for renovations for the last six months.”

“So you think he’s guilty of shooting the drug dealer?”

“No. He’s covering for his brother who has the real motive. Did any of you actually look at him when he was on the stand? Tattoos from the rival gang, and bruising between his fingers.”

“What… does the bruising mean?” another juror asked, her brow furrowed. 

“He’s been using heroin so long he’s out of veins so he shoots it between his fingers. That or he’s trying to hide the habit. Either way, he’s the one with the connection to the victim, not the defendant. He’s just trying to protect his little brother.”

“You’re sure?”

“It’s more airtight than the defendant being guilty. Anyway… I’m out.” She turned and sidled off, her heels clicking on the marble floor as she went.

Zeller was holding the door for her. “Exciting day?”

“Only if you’re a fan of police procedurals.” Beverly grumbled as they fell in step. “Is that coffee?”

“For you.” Zeller proffered the cup he was carrying. “I imagine you’ve been subjected to enough of the courthouse swill.”

“Oh, Z you are a god amongst men.” She took the styrofoam cup from him and took an enormous gulp, ignoring her singed tastebuds. “So to what do I owe the honor of rescue?”

Zeller rolled his eyes. “Will thinks the Madchen girl was killed by the Copycat Killer.”

Her brow knit in confusion. “What? That’s Nick Boyle and he’s-”

“Dead. I know. I think this all sounds crazy.”

Beverly lifted her shoulder in a shrug. “Well… we’ll either prove it or we won’t. Can I catch a ride back to Quantico with you? I took the bus.”


	13. Episode 1x13 - Savoureux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When was the last time you slept?” Beverly asked, sliding into the seat across from her.
> 
> “Mother hen.” Alana teased, a real smile coming to rest on her mouth.
> 
> “Hey, somebody’s gotta be. Have you met the people working here? I’ve just taken to assuming that if I haven’t eaten or slept or had a cup of coffee, neither have they.”
> 
> “Did you do that for Will?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings! I'm slowly getting caught up. Blame Stardew Valley. I swear that game is more addictive than crystal meth.
> 
> No warnings to speak of, but of course there are spoilers for this episode. Just a little one on one girl time with Alana and Beverly.
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you as always for reading and commenting.

Beverly trudged into the break room, the fingers of one hand making slow circles around the bridge of her nose. She was thankful the fluorescents were only at half strength in here. Her eyes couldn’t have handled it otherwise. Too much time on the microscope did that. Too much time spent staring at evidence that was screaming truths she didn’t want to see or hear. She would have to testify at the trial. She would have to condemn Will. Maybe to… 

No, she couldn’t think of that. She had a job to do… and currently that required imbibing more horrible coffee and getting back in the lab. Maybe she would find something that could...

A loud, saturated sniff alerted Beverly to another’s presence. She turned and saw a tearful, cherry-faced Alana Bloom sitting still as a corpse at the table in a shadowy corner.

“Hey Dr. Bloom.” She said, pausing with coffee pot in hand.

“Alana, please.” she said, her voice thick with still falling tears. “I think we’ve all earned first names at this point.”

“Crawford sent you to see Will.” It wasn’t a question. “Doesn’t… seem like the best idea.”

“I’m starting to doubt if he ever has good ideas.” Alana replied with a twist of her mouth. “Especially not after Will admitted in the interrogation room that he had feelings for me.”

“Yikes.” Beverly quickly recalculated and poured a second cup of coffee. “That certainly complicates things.

Alana gave a humorless cough of laughter. “Yikes is right. Thanks.” She curled shaky fingers around the styrofoam cup as it was offered.

“When was the last time you slept?” Beverly asked, sliding into the seat across from her.

“Mother hen.” Alana teased, a real smile coming to rest on her mouth.

“Hey, somebody’s gotta be. Have you met the people working here? I’ve just taken to assuming that if I haven’t eaten or slept or had a cup of coffee, neither have they.”

“Did you do that for Will?”

The air became thick again. Oppressive with professionalism and propriety warring against the honesty they all were craving right now.

“I tried.” Beverly answered truthfully, though she couldn’t bring herself to look up. “I...I really did. Will would come to me sometimes… asking me to look at things to make sure… make sure we were seeing the same things. I should have said something. I should have fucking told Crawford but I-”

“It wouldn’t have mattered.” Alana’s voice was soft but forceful. “I tried. I tried so many times. We could all see something was wrong, but Jack… he… the successes in these cases were more important than Will’s wellbeing. That’s the bottom line.”

“The good of the many outweighs the good of the few.”

“Yeah well… the few are beginning to be not so few. First it was just Will… and if… if what we think happened is what happened… there’s a lot more than a few on that side of the scale.”

Beverly could only give a solemn nod. The silence stretched between them, thick enough to cut.

“Hey.” Beverly finally couldn’t stand it and she reached across the table to take Alana’s hand. “Let’s get out of here tonight. You, me… maybe Nerd One and Nerd Two… we should grab something good to eat, like burgers from that new place over on Seventh and Madison, and I don’t know. Go sit someplace outside.”

Alana weighed the suggestion with a slow nod. “I… am picking up Will’s dogs in less than an hour. Maybe the dog park?”

“Yeah. Yeah! What do you think?”

A smile crept across Alana’s face. “I think I need it, even though it’s the last thing I feel like doing.”

“I’ve got a headache so bad it feels like the Seven Dwarves are mining for gold in my eye sockets, so I feel you. But…”

“Yeah. Let’s do it.” Alana rose from the table and finished her coffee. “I’ve got to get to the Humane Society. Text me what Team Science says?”

“Will do.” Beverly replied with a faint smile as Alana gathered her keys and headed for the door.


	14. Episode 2x01 - Kaiseki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal gave an understanding nod. “And what is usually on the menu?”
> 
> “Take out.”
> 
> Hannibal made a show of wrinkling his nose. “Come to my house instead. I would love to have you for dinner.”
> 
> “Ooph… phrasing, Doctor. Too soon.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal has Beverly for dinner in the metaphorical sense first.
> 
> As usual... spoilers and foreshadowing abound for the whole series. Also errors probably abound because these are not edited.
> 
> Thank you for reading! Your comments and kudos give me life!

Hannibal stripped off his gloves and tossed them into the bin set up by the cleanup crew on the bridge. Beverly stepped up behind him and did the same. 

“Thanks for your help, Dr. Lecter.” she said with a congenial smile.

“The pleasure was mine, Ms. Katz.” he replied with a little playful bow at the waist.

Her smile took on a friendly life of its own at the gesture. “Beverly. You can call me Beverly.”

“Was Will allowed to call you Beverly?” Hannibal asked as they both ambled at a leisurely pace towards the vehicles. 

“Most of us that work in the lab are on a first name basis. At least until someone get salty about something.”

Hannibal gave her an amused smirk. “And I suppose since I’m the new Will Graham, that includes me.”

“I suppose it does.” She replied.

“So what would happen now?”

“Well,” Beverly squinted up at the sun, which had begun to sag towards the horizon. “If it were earlier in the day, we’d go back to work but as it stands I think the techs and interns are going to just take the bodies back to the lab at Quantico, and we’ll pick up with them in the morning. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

“Hungry? Even after seeing that?” he gestured to the bodies on the bridge, now snugly wrapped in black plastic. “You must have an iron stomach, Beverly.”

“If I didn’t, I’d be a lot thinner. Would you like to grab something to eat?”

“Do you usually ask Will?”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction before she could stop them. “Sometimes. He’s one of those people that will forget to eat if someone doesn’t remind him.”

Hannibal gave an understanding nod. “And what is usually on the menu?”

“Take out.”

Hannibal made a show of wrinkling his nose. “Come to my house instead. I would love to have you for dinner.”

“Ooph… phrasing, Doctor. Too soon.”

Hannibal laughed then, revealing his sharp white teeth. “All the same. Come join me. I’ll text you the address and time.”

She mirrored his smile, excitement clearly welling within her. “Alright, Dr. Lecter. Thank you.” She turned to join Zeller and Price at the FBI car.

“Oh… and one more thing Beverly.” he called out.

She turned back to face him, her grin still lighting her eyes.

“To my dinner guests, it’s always Hannibal.” He winked, turned smartly towards his Bentley, and sauntered off, leaving her there with a fresh smile flowered on her lips.


	15. Episode 2x02 - Sakizuki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal lifted the dropper of perfume to his nose and inhaled...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greetings all! I'm slowly but surely getting caught up on these things! Here's one for the Bedelia lovers out there.
> 
> As usual, these are written with full knowledge of the series so they can contain spoilers for the episode as well as for the series as a whole.
> 
> And also as per usual, the editing has been minimal so please be kind.
> 
> Thank you for reading!

Hannibal lifted the dropper of perfume to his nose and inhaled, letting the scent saturate his mind. He’d smelled it a thousand times on a thousand visits and appointments, but always tinged by the scent of Bedelia’s skin. Not that it was ever marring to the experience. It was what the perfume was designed for after all. No doubt, Bedelia had it custom made for her. But here it was untainted. The art itself and nothing more.

A garden assaulted his senses first. A French garden, he decided. Carefully groomed and manicured. The terrain smoothed from its natural slopes into whatever suited the gardener. Filled with flowering trees, and at the entrance, a trellis of lily-white jasmine in full bloom. Their scent in particular hung thick in the sun-drenched air.

And under that the smell of citrus crept in, giving light and levity. A heady suggestion of summer. Pressed oranges… their juice poured over ice in glasses that sweated luxuriously in the heat.

Then past that was the pungent smell of musk and amber. It clung so mightily to the palate that Hannibal could almost taste the bitterness of the resin. It lingered even after the bottle was stoppered again. 

Just as she had hoped to linger in his thoughts no doubt. He smiled to himself at that. Perhaps she should be allowed to linger. To languish in their separation for a time before he called on her again. Perhaps he might have need of her. 

Or perhaps she might be served best by being roasted with oranges rather than the rosemary he had previously considered.


	16. Episode 2x03 - Hassun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, these are written with full knowledge of the show and thus contain spoilers for the episode as well as a healthy dose of foreshadowing/spoilers for the whole kit and kaboodle.
> 
> And of course… they’ve had a grand total of five minutes of editing.
> 
> Enjoy!

Beverly watched it all from the sidelines. The trial. The witnesses coming and going and doing unexpected things. The new parade of evidence. Was Will guilty or wasn’t he? Could anyone on this case be objective anymore? Maybe Purnell was right, as much as the thought galled her to the point of nausea.

She sat alone in her apartment, glass of whiskey neat in her hand. Peanut sprawled across her lap, doing her best impression of a throw and not doing a half bad job. Beverly wanted to help Will, but every move she made kept making her, and more annoyingly Zeller, question her motives.

But she’d promised to help Will… and Will had delivered on the Muralist. She couldn’t think of anything else though. No stone that she hadn’t turned, then turned again, and then put in a different pile entirely before pondering throwing it at someone’s head… most likely Zeller or Crawford.

She sighed heavily, rousing Peanut from her ear-skritch-induced slumber. There was more evidence. There had to be. Will said there would be more. She just had to find the patience and the focus to find it. And maybe the courage to go looking for it when no one else would.


	17. Episode 2x04 - Takiwase

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Preller fluff to ease our suffering.
> 
> As usual... spoilers for the episode. Minimal editing. Ect ect...
> 
> Enjoy! And thanks for the kudos and comments!

“Hey, Jimmy!” Zeller stuck his head in the lab.

“Yeah, what’s up?” Price answered, not looking up from his microscope. 

“It’s almost eight. I was going to call it a night and head up to Maggie’s on Eighth and Eustis. It’s Happy Hour until ten and it’s wing night. Wanna come with?”

“Yeah sure, just a sec.” He scratched a note onto the pad at his elbow and switched off the microscope. “Beverly joining us?” he asked as he threw his coat over his shoulders.

“Dunno. I saw her earlier this evening but haven’t talked to her since. Maybe she’s down in the slabs.” Zeller said as they fell in step together.

They didn’t find her in the slabs, but they both frowned to see the Muralist’s body left out of the coolers.

“Bev?” Zeller called looking around. “Not like her to leave someone out to dry.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Price paced a little closer. “Wonder what she was working on. Thought this was pretty much case closed.”

“Still haven’t found who put the guy in his own tableau.” Zeller replied. “Look at this.” he pointed at the corpse’s side with his pinky and Price moved around to see. “Stitching’s been cut.”

“Wonder what she was doing?” Price frowned.

“Looking for trace?” Zeller shrugged. “Like the pollen she found in the cracka-lackin… whatever it was?”

Price’s face scrunched even further. “She’d have called one of us if she’d found something, surely.”

“Point taken. I’ll call Margie in the intern office and have someone come put him away before they close up for the night.”

Price didn’t respond. He had his phone pressed to his ear. After a moment, he pulled it away with a shake of his head. “Straight to voicemail.”

“Bev?”

He nodded as they wandered back out into the hall. “I’ll try texting her from the car.”

“I take it I’m driving?” Zeller asked with an arch of his eyebrow.

“Unless you want to ride on the handlebars of my scooter.” Price responded with an equally pleased expression.

Zeller grinned and reached over to grab his hand, “Romantic as that might be, I can’t go ruining my image.”

“Fair enough.”


End file.
